Metal Fatigue

I grew up on Heavy Metal, although these days always wake up with more of an "Emo" haircut, where I look like all those new rock bands I don't know jack squat about, but see everywhere I go on the internet. I kind of like these bands, only because of the fact they remind me of the awesome youthful power of Rock and Roll. And not combing my hair.

I wonder if my dad would have liked Black Sabbath if he woke up with a mane of long stringy hair every morning; even though Black Sabbath's mission in life was to scare the bejeebus out of balding, middle-aged men like him. As time crawls along I notice my hair is receding to that rooster-like plume that my old man had, but I still have enough to whip around when I headbang. Only I don't headbang anymore. My neck sounds like a bowl of Rice Krispies when I do.

I grew up listening to classic rock; always the gateway to harder stuff like Sabbath and Zeppelin. From there I was but a hop, skip, and a bong hit away from the 'New Wave of British Metal' bands like Judas Priest and Iron Maiden. Motorhead: the epitome of all that was heavy about Heavy Metal.

Then came the 'Poodle Hair" era of Metal, and I wandered off in search of music with a little more substance, and a lot less hairspray; in the late 80's Ozzy and Dame Edna became interchangeable and that made me give up on MTV. Except for a late night program called "Headbanger's Ball,"

I hadn't watched that show for years but I tuned in last night to do some research on a project I am doing with Axel. I am vaguely familiar with today's Metal bands, although I am not a fan of the "Cookie Monster" vocal style most of them utilize. I clicked on halfway through a video by a band called Dragonforce. They had dual lead guitarists playing these hyper-speed Yngweenie Malmsteenie type noodling over a TNT-ish melody, complete with a castrato vocal in the style of Tony Harnell. It was nostalgic, really.

And filled with Homotextual Subsext. "Pussy Metal" we used to call it.

The next video was the bludgeoning type of Metal I was expecting. The name of the band was Amon Amarth, which I think is Norwegian for "tanless and tuneless." Seriously, someone needs to tell their singer to get in touch with a Key and Jenny Craig, and to stick with both for a while. Man-boobs are not Metal. He was growling about wanting some "rune stones," while sounding like he was passing gallstones. And, in my 'umble opinion, you ain't a real Viking if you're holding a shiny green guitar. They did have some impressive synchronized headbanging action going on. Look for that at the next X-Games.

After the video they had an interview with the night's guests, the singer and guitarist for Goatwhore. Yeah, my grandma's favorite band! The host actually asked them how they came up with that delightful moniker, but anyone who can't see the sublime brilliance of placing the word "Goat" before the word "Whore" shouldn't be left unattended in front of a TV. They explained it anyway, and it was anticlimactic to hear they stole it from Aleister Crowley. Then they played their new video, which was as eee-vil as Congressman Joe Crowley (D-NY). Which is to say, not very.

I was struck by the fact that all the band members has some sort of facial hair protuberances coming from their chins, and I wondered if their groupies were called "Goatee-whores." [Note to self: Consider forming a band called "Chin-gyna"]. Then they played another Goatwhore video, and I had the image of the singer introducing it in concert by saying "Here's another song I wrote while I was on the shitter pinching a loaf…harrrrrrgh…" He made Springsteen sound like Pavorotti.

Then there was an ad for some other Metal bands, and I discovered that I had misread the name of one that had used the scrawled lettering that all Metal bands seem to use these days. It isn't "Lamp of God," but Lamb of God- sorry Jesus! Then the VJ played a video by a band called All That Remains. The VJ said the song was "The Air That I Breathe," but it turned out to be the worst Hollies cover I have ever heard. It didn’t sound like the original at all.

Then they played a video by Incubus, a band I'd actually heard. Very melodic, almost too melodic to be Metal, and the bassist was wearing a porkpie hat, which made me want to put on a Tom Waits record and listen to a real master of the "Bowels-of-Hell/Gargling-with-Drano" vocal style. Now that guy is spooky, far more menacing than these Heavy Metal guys. That's when it hit me: maybe Spinal Tap did stab the final stake into Heavy Metal's black, bitter heart. These new bands fail to do what they are supposed to do: scare the bejeebus out of middle-aged guys like me.

Metal bands have become a parody because of their sincerity in trying to make Beelzebub's marching music. We all know Satan's Symphony is being conducted by Yanni. Goatwhore might as well fold up their Ouija Board and go home. The Polyphonic Spree make me sleep with one eye open, not these James Hetfield acolytes.


As for "Chingyna," I am scrapping that name. So, yes, I am breaking up my imaginary Metal band. I am starting over with a completely new imaginary band. I have even thought up the perfect name:

"Cheesy Umlaut.”

Featuring Yanni on keyboards.

\m/